The Smell of Spring
by Miralana
Summary: "There will come a time in your life when you cannot trust the people you love. All you have to do is figure out which one of those people it will be." Kili had never had big ambitions. He'd wanted his brother to be happy, wanted Thorin to look at him with pride, wanted to win back their home. He never expected that any of those things would nearly destroy his life.
1. Prologue

_I have just a slight idea where I'm going with this but well I miss myself a little bit politics and drama._

_Have fun and tell me what you think about it. My tumblr is everknowing. Feel free to message me._

**Prologue**

Kíli had always imagined his death would be a heroic one. When they were still children, he and Fíli would imagine for hours how they would find their deaths in battle. Would it be through an arrow in the chest, still fighting with every inch of life that was left in them? Or through a treacherous blow from an axe while protecting the people they loved?

He had never imagined being the last one of them left standing, with no arrows to use and just his sword in hand. Fíli should have been coming to aid his brother, fighting his way through the enemies to be at his side.

Instead, Kili could do nothing more than watch helplessly as Azog lunged out with his claw and aimed for Fíli's neck.

The next thing he saw was a horrible crimson and Fíli's body dropping to the ground, and Kili must have screamed because the Defiler turned around then, his face and upper body covered in his brother's blood. He made his way through the soldiers- orcs, dwarves, elves -not reacting to any sword blow that was aimed at him, his eyes never leaving his target: Kíli.

Kíli knew then that he was going to die. Alone. Separated from his brother, and separated from his uncle (who he hadn't even seen since Azog had stepped onto the battlefield).

Suddenly, there were no more noises surrounding him. No clashing of metal against metal, no screams of dying soldiers, nothing. Everything- except perhaps his own heartbeat pounding in his ears -was drowned out. He was entirely focused on Azog, who raised his claw at him as he neared. Only at the last moment did Kíli remember how to block it with his sword.

The sheer force of Azog's attack was enough to hurl Kíli's sword out of his hands, and he heard his own fingers breaking with an unpleasant crack. But maybe he had only imagined the sound, because he could hardly even hear his own thoughts. He cried out when Azog tossed him to the ground, his armor digging into wounds on his chest that he hadn't even known were there.

His hair fell into his field of vision, and he tried to quickly move it with the back of his hand, to gain a better view of his surroundings while the Defiler was busy mocking him in Orcish. Then he caught sight of a sword, and he reached for it, pushing through the agonizing pain and immobility in his fingers.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a strange sound- some kind of drumming, and something else that he couldn't quite make out. He ignored it, shaking his head and trying to bring himself back into the moment, back into the battle.

Azog brought him back painfully when he stomped onto the hand that was reaching for the sword, causing Kíli to scream and look up quickly. The orc smiled triumphantly, a cruel upward turn of pale lips, and he said something again. Something that sounded too much like _Durin_ and _Thorin_, and Kíli could feel the tears forming in his eyes.

"_Liar!_ You did not kill him! You would never be able to do that!" He didn't know if Azog could understand him, and he would never receive an answer because he had suddenly looked up, Kíli following his gaze. The orc soldiers were all moving back, he could hear their cries and, between the overwhelming sounds of battle and bloodshed, chanting.

_Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!_

_Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!_

Azog let out a mighty roar, his eyes fixing on something or someone that Kíli could not see. All he could hear were so many voices, crying out in Khuzdul. It sounded like there were hundreds of voices. Hundreds of dwarves. Hundreds of dwarves who would _fight_.

Azog seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he finally removed his foot from it's place on Kíli's hand and sank down on one knee beside the dwarf. He could see the claw raised, could see it glimmer in the sunlight, and he smiled because, even if he were to die then, Azog would die too. Elves, men, eagles, and now dwarves. They would be too many for him.

Kíli accepted his fate and held Azog's cold gaze, but as the claw came swooping down upon him, someone struck an axe deep in Azog's side, knocking him off balance. The orc fell down onto the ground, and the same axe soon separated his head from his shoulders.

Then Dáin stretched his hand out and pulled Kíli back onto his feet, pressing their foreheads together for a brief moment as he spoke.  
"Let us put an end to this."  
_And let us hope that Thorin and Fíli are alive._


	2. Awakening

_Sorry guys, for the long delay, I couldn't type because of the new tattoos on my arms. I'm really sorry, that you had to wait so long._

_As always, if there's any problem with the next chapter I'll write about it on my tumblr (everknowing)._

_Oh!__** To all my German readers**__: I'm going to the Book fair in Leipzig next weekend like every year and I'd love to meet some other Hobbit and ThorinKíli fans. So if you want to meet me, just send me a message on tumblr._

**Awakening**

"_'li.."_ There was this fine, quiet voice in his head that reminded him he wasn't dead, that he couldn't just slip away into the dark, that he had people waiting for him. His ma, Fíli, Thorin- all of them.

"_Kíli?"_

His eyelids fluttered open and the first thing he saw was the never ending darkness of a long hall with impossibly tall columns that towered to the ceiling. For a moment, he thought maybe he really was dead. But then he saw something, felt something. Something cold on his forehead.

"_You are fine, laddie, do not worry."_

He knew that voice, but couldn't place it. Whom did it belong to? He couldn't quite figure it out.

And then there was darkness again.

* * *

_Kíli didn't remember the next time he woke, nor the next time after that. He just saw darkness and fire dancing before his eyes, and heard the distant whispering of voices that didn't make sense to him._

* * *

He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes again and took a deep breath. His chest hurt a little, and he remembered the wounds he had sustained on the battlefield, how his armor had made it worse because it had been battered from too many hard blows.

He recalled how Azog had tried to kill him, and how he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

And then.. how Dáin had appeared and saved him. Bloody Dáin of all people who wouldn't help them when they had asked the first time but then, when the Mountain had been theirs again...

It was a bitter feeling that rushed through his veins. Had Dáin only come to claim Erebor as his Kingdom? Had he hoped that-

And then his thought faltered, his heart seeming to stop for a moment. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Without making even a single step, he fell straight to the floor, groaning in pain.

"Kíli? Laddie, what are you doing?"

Óin's feet came into view and the healer sank down beside him, helping Kíli to sit up.

"You are just getting over this nasty infection, laddie, so you really shouldn't get out of bed or you're just going to be ill for another two weeks." Kíli didn't listen to Óin, nor did he recognize his words.

"Where is Fíli, where is Thorin?" He demanded to know, and the expression on Óin; face turned grim.

"No, no, no, no, no! Don't tell me that they're dead! DO NOT TELL ME-!"  
"Laddie, listen!" Óin readjusted the hold of his ear trumpet, and helped Kili up with one hand. Kíli came to stand on his legs with trembling knees, and the only thing that was really holding him up was the edge of the bed he had been lying on.

"They are- it is- um, why don't we get you something to eat first and then we can talk about your brother and uncle?"

* * *

Kíli wasn't sure how Óin had been able to get something for him to eat so fast, but he didn't care and he hardly even tasted the food. He couldn't stop thinking about them. What if they were dead? Why didn't Óin want to tell him? What was wrong?

And that was how he found himself at Fíli's bed in a chamber that looked like it had belonged to someone from the royal family long ago.

His brother looked like he was dead. Were it not for the faint moving of his chest, Kíli would have thought him dead.

His whole neck and face was covered in thick bandages.

"The elves helped him," said a voice behind him, and Kíli nearly burst into tears when Balin laid a hand on his shoulder. "They put his body in a healing sleep. He does not need to eat or to drink and it helps his body focusing it's whole energy on healing his wounds. I do not really understand it, but Mr. Gandalf said that it is a good thing and I believe him. Azog.. nearly ripped his head from his neck."  
"I know. I saw what happened. He aimed with his claw at Fíli and then I saw him go down and-" He almost started to sob at the thought of nearly losing his brother.

"When will he wake?"

"They said that he'll wake up when his body is able to manage it. Only time will tell when that'll be."

He stroked his fingers through Fíli's golden hair, and the peaceful expression on his features calmed Kili down a little bit. Fíli would wake up. He was sure of that.

"What about Thorin?"

The look Balin gave him frightened him more than anything else.

* * *

Thorin was awake when they arrived. He had been in the same healing sleep as Fíli and he was still weak, but he had woken up only hours before Kíli.

Dwalin was standing at his bed, quietly talking to him. When he heard them approach, he stepped aside so that Kíli could take a look at his beloved uncle.

"Kíli..." Thorin said softly, and he didn't need another invitation because he was at his bed in a second and he nearly couldn't resist hugging Thorin and never letting him go. Instead, he just gripped Thorin's tunic with his fingers and buried his nose in Thorin's thick mane.

"I thought you were dead.." he whispered, and one of Thorin's hands stroked over his back.

"I thought so too."

He didn't even realize that Dwalin and Balin left the room.

* * *

An hour later, Kíli was lying beside Thorin on the bed, his head propped up on his arm and his fingers gently caressing over the scars on Thorin's body. There was a big one that started at his breastbone and went down to his hip where the sword of Bolg had nearly killed him.

Kíli kissed the scar with trembling lips, not quite believing (or wanting to believe) that he had been so close to losing Thorin.

So Kíli enjoyed the feeling of being there with him while he listened to Thorin talking about what had happened- according to Balin -within the last two weeks.

Dáin had stayed and not claimed the crown for himself as Kíli had feared for a moment. Instead, he had commanded his men to cleaning up Erebor as well as possible, and he had also sent messengers to the Blue Mountains to tell everyone that their home was theirs again and that they could return. If Balin was right, that meant that Dís could be on her way already. Kíli wasn't sure if he wouldn't rather like to face an army of orcs again. As well, the elves had gone back to their trees and the men were satisfied for the moment. Apparently Dáin and Balin had negotiated that every man and woman who would sell them food and clothing as long as they needed to rebuild their kingdom would get a very generous amount of gold, and for every trade there would be another payment to the city.

"And you are fine with that?" Kíli asked, interrupting Thorin. He remembered well enough how changed his uncle had been. How he hadn't been himself, how he had treated their burglar and everyone else.

Thorin went silent immediately and, for an second, Kíli thought he had crossed a line and that there were things that even he wasn't allowed to talk about with his uncle. But then Thorin sighed, long and heavy. His fingers found Kíli's and he squeezed them slightly.

"When I- when I thought that I was about to die... things became clear to me, and I know now that my ways were ill." Thorin stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked broken, lost. Kíli leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

"The thought that my actions had led to your death. To the death of the two of you..."

"But we are not dead. Neither me nor Fíli."

"We do not know yet if Fíli will ever wake up. And even if he wi-"

But Kíli didn't want to hear more of this talk so he kissed Thorin again, to silence him, and Thorin allowed it.

The kiss was softer and more chaste than every other kiss they had shared in the last few months, but it reassured him. To kiss Thorin, to feel his beard and his skin under his lips, it made him feel like nothing could ever tear them apart.

_He had no idea how wrong he was._


End file.
